


The Remaking of a Man

by rivlee



Series: Gone Are All The Days [31]
Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, M/M, Made Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just clothes that make you who you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Remaking of a Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> For my darling Kailey who gave me the original prompt.

“You sure about this, Eugene?”

Sid’s hand was heavy on his shoulder. He felt those strong fingers tighten on the pale skin under his shirt. There would be bruises, he was sure. He’d grown out of his heart murmur, but it felt like everyone still saw him as that sickly boy who’d missed a year of school. Even Sid who had always been Eugene’s champion.

Eugene hated that; he didn’t want to be defined by just what happened to him. It was part of him—it wasn’t _all_ he was or would ever be. 

“I want to serve, Sid,” he said as they stood outside the recruiter’s office. 

“There are other ways,” Sid said. “You could try the Peace Corps or a mission with the church, or some other option.”

Eugene shook his head. “Sid, I’m certain.”

Sid’s shoulders dropped. “I promised your mother I’d try. Let’s get you in there, you stubborn shit.”

Eugene smiled and tilted his head back to take in some sunlight. He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Sid leaned over and adjusted his tie. “Can’t have you going in there rumpled. Now you look your best.”

**********

His mama had tears in her eyes as she took in his uniform. She had a handkerchief clutched in one hand and her white gloves in the other. Mary Sledge truly was from another generation, and while there was a time he resented her for it, here and now he gladly soaked in her genteel elegance. It was a jarring change from boot camp and the world that had been his life for the past thirteen weeks.

“Look at you,” she said. “Not quite the cap and gown I imagined for the graduation I anticipated. You look like a proper gentleman, Eugene.”

His father and brother rolled their eyes at her words. Eugene just tried not to think about how frail her hands felt now as she cupped his cheek. She’d lost weight. He’d worried her. 

“I’m fine, mother,” he said.

She frowned at him and adjusted his shirt collar. “I am your mother, Eugene. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot clearly see. I don’t know why you felt you had to do this, but we are your family and here to support you every step of the way. ”

**********

They’d given them forest camo for a push into a desert country.

“God bless the red, white, and blue,” Snafu said. 

“Better watch that mouth, Snaf,” Burgie said. “Don’t need to get NJP’d for running it.”

Snafu leaned back on his rack, skinny legs bare and toes curled into the sand that had swept into their tent. “No one’s gonna tell on me,” he said.

“Leyden might,” Burgie said.

Snafu sucked air through his teeth. “Leyden loves me.” He turned his attention back to Eugene and wiggled his fingers. “Try the uniform on for us, Sledgehammer. Make the Corps proud like the poster boy you are.”

Eugene knew _he’d_ probably get NJP’d for rolling up one of their new MOPP suits and throwing it at Snafu, but he had a feeling Captain Haldane would come down on his side regardless.

“Look who finally showed what a little shit he really is under all those kindly manners,” Snafu said. 

Burgie laughed as he cleaned his rifle. “Be careful there, Sledgehammer. Snaf’s damn near paid you a compliment. You’ll never get that burr off your ass now.”

Snafu winked at Eugene. “I only make him look better.”

“That’s not a compliment to yourself, Shelton,” Jay said as he looked at them over the top of his book.

***********

Eugene knew he’d satisfied the military’s standards for returning to civilian society after a long tour, but he still felt like a wolf among sheep.

He couldn’t make himself button up his shirt. He’d been doing it since preschool and now his hands trembled as he picked at the threads of his grey slacks and the sleeves of his dress shirt. Florence had invited them all for a real home-cooked meal, and Eugene couldn’t make his fingers move.

“No need to dress up for Flo,” Snafu said. 

Eugene wasn’t surprised to see him in the doorway of his bedroom. Snafu generally ignored things like personal boundaries and privacy. 

“It’s the proper way,” Eugene argued. It was routine. It was something he knew—his old life and those manners.

“Fuck proper,” Snafu said. He dug through Eugene’s closet and threw a t-shirt at him before he rummaged around in his dresser and came up with a pair of jeans. “Welcome to the new world, Sledgehammer. Here we wear jeans to dinner and leave Miss Manners at the door. You just got back from a fucking war. Stand down.”

Eugene laughed and gestured to his clothes. “This is standing down for me.”

Snafu shook his head. “Maybe back in Mobile. Leave the tie and penny loafers behind. That shit ain’t relaxing you right now. Bust out the flip-flops and do something with that hair.”

Eugene shook his head. Too much of a change, and maybe not enough. “I’ll fly the middle course,” he said. He pulled off his shirt and grabbed the t-shirt Snafu had thrown at him. He stood and smoothed the fabric down. 

“Good enough,” Snafu said. “I’m still going to burn your loafers though.”

“Why?” Eugene asked as he pocked his wallet, phone, and keys.

“Crimes against fashion,” Snafu said. 

Eugene looked at the faded black t-shirt with the stretched collar, ratty jeans, and battered basic plastic shower shoes Snafu called flip-flops. “Really? You?”

He ducked Snafu’s swatting hand just in time.

**********

“What in the name of God are those?”

Eugene looked down at his feet while he pondered his brother’s question. The neon green pieces of cheap plastic footwear came courtesy of Snafu before their last, final tour together. Snaf and Burgie got out before him, and Eugene followed a full six months later. It just wasn’t the same anymore without Haldane, Hillbilly, Burgie, Snafu, and all his boys. Eugene only had some pictures, e-mail addresses, and a head full of memories of their close-connection and lives over there. 

Burgie and Hillbilly liked to keep up with everyone. Leyden had invited himself down to Eugene’s home on more than one occasion when Jay and Oswalt were _actually_ invited, but Snafu remained elusive. Some days Eugene thought he’d imagined the weight of those eyes tracking every one of his movements. Then he remembered the little things like these neon-green flip-flops and the little origami animals made out of gum wrappers he was _still_ finding in the boxes from Oceanside. 

“They’re a reminder,” Eugene said.

“They’re ugly,” Edward said. 

“Life ain’t pretty,” Eugene said, his words carrying a ghost of another man. 

“Yeah, I still suggest you change your footwear before the dinner party,” he said.

Eugene shrugged, not really eager to play dutiful son who had returned from war for yet another group of his mother’s acquaintances. 

“I can dress up all pretty, Edward and it’s not going to change one iota of a shit about how I feel about those people eager to come into this house and see behind our walls. Poor Mary Frank Sledge and her baby boy who came back from war and now can’t do anything of worth. Let’s write a whole bullshit editorial in our local neighborhood paper about how unprepared the youth of today is for things their elders handled with grace. I’m tired of it.”

“You know you can work with me at the accounting firm,” Edward said.

Eugene loved his brother, but he’d never understand. “You don’t get it,” he said. “It’s not about a job. I’m just tired of acting like someone I’m not anymore.”

Edward slid down to next him, a pale hand wrapping around Eugene’s own and giving a tight squeeze. “Then you be whoever you are now, even if it comes with some truly ugly as sin footwear.”

***********

There was a cool breeze blowing onto the porch, yet Eugene could barely feel it weighed down by the muggy heart of summer. He stretched out bare toes to touch a patch of dry grass and leaned against the wooden columns of the house. A lifetime in Mobile, years in the desert, you would’ve thought he was used to heat by now. Louisiana had something that made him burn differently though; helped ease that ache under his skin and in his bones, while making him itch for something else entirely.

"Wanna drink?" Snafu pressed a cold glass of tea to Eugene’s bare shoulder. "Put enough sugar in it to get a lecture from Gene-Baptiste."

"Only way to make it," Eugene said. In the polite society of his mother’s friends, he would’ve sipped it. Here, in front of Snafu who was in threadbare shorts and nothing else, he gulped half the glass down.

"Pitcher’s inside if you want more," Snaf said. He studied Eugene like he always had and smirked.

"Gonna tell me I’m whiter than a ghost, Snaf?" he asked.

"Nah," Snafu said. He stretched his arms out and laid flat out on the porch, staring up at the fans slowly rotating above. "You ain’t buttoned-up no more. That’s a good look on you. Makes you seem like you at home."

Eugene shook his head. “My mother would have words if I dressed like this at home.”

Snafu’s fingers were blunt and calloused, but a welcome touch as they gripped Eugene’s arm. His face was deadly serious as he stared Eugene down.

"Maybe it’s time you think about what home really means."

**********

Snaf tasted like something forbidden—something good little church-going boys from Mobile shouldn’t have on their tongues or under their fingers. Snaf wasn’t careful-like. His blunt fingernails gripped tight at Eugene’s hips, arms, and the back of his neck. No one here was worried about delicate.

Eugene pulled back and rested his forehead against Snaf’s own. He took a deep, steady breath and smiled. He nuzzled the skin on the side of Snaf’s jaw and bit down quick.

Snaf laughed as he tugged Eugene away. He ran his fingers through Eugene’s hair and finished the mess he’d already started.

"All dirtied up now," he said. His fingers moved and eased at the soft skin behind Eugene’s ears. "It’s a good look on you."

"Never did like me all buttoned-up."

"You always looked like you was drowning in those clothes—couldn’t breathe and all stiff. Wasn’t you."

“Not anymore,” Eugene agreed. 

He could hear Hillbilly working outside, the smell of sawdust drifting up to their window as he worked on a set of proper rocking chairs for the porch. Kipling was running up and down the stairs chasing after a laughing Babe while Gene Roe yelled about both of them breaking their necks. There was the smell of heated oil and batter that signaled a fish fry courtesy of Paw-Paw Roe. 

Eugene stretched out his bare toes and leaned into Snafu’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne, sweat, and the both of them.

“Nap before lunch?” he asked.

“Shh, already sleeping Sledgehammer.”


End file.
